


In the Quiet

by silmarilz1701



Series: Tolkien One-shots [16]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmarilz1701/pseuds/silmarilz1701
Summary: Recovery begins for Maedhros after his torture by Morgoth.





	In the Quiet

 

When he came to, Maedhros found it odd that there was comfort, not agony. That wasn’t to say there was no pain, in fact his right arm and hand hurt worse than it had even when he hung from Thangorodrim. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, and his ears to register what he heard. For it was music, soft and sweet, and in it sorrow mingled with joy. The lyrist sat in a chair at his left, and was clothed in dark blue and silver.

 

“Kano?” Maedhros tried to heave himself onto his side as the music halted. 

 

The elf looked up at him. Maglor placed the small harp onto the floor and reached out to touch Maedhros’ left hand. “Peace, brother. You were gravely hurt when Fingon returned to us. Lie back.”

 

Maedhros closed his eyes and nodded, allowing his body to sink back into the soft sheets of his bed. As he did so, the door opened and a short, red-haired elf stuck his head inside. The smile that plastered his face when he saw his older brother caused Maedhros himself to smile.

 

“Nelyo!” Amrod threw open the door and rushed inside. He ran to his eldest brother’s right side and went to hug him. Maedhros pulled himself up to embrace his youngest brother. As he did so, the other red-head entered the room. Amrod turned to his twin. “I told you he would wake soon, Minyo!”

 

“Pityo, I never doubted.” Amras rolled his eyes as he walked over. He looked at Maedhros and smiled again. “I promise, I never doubted.”

 

Maedhros laughed, falling then into a deep coughing fit. Three more faces popped into the room to check that all was alright. First came Caranthir, followed by Celegorm and Curufin.

 

“Feeling any better?” Caranthir asked as he leaned against the now-closed door. “You look less pale.”

 

“Waking up in a bed and not hung from a cliff is a definite improvement,” Maedhros retorted sarcastically. Then his face softened. “I missed you all.”

 

Celegorm made a face. “Do not get weepy on us, brother.” After a pause in the room he smirked. “But we missed you, too.”

 

As Celegorm settled beside the twins on the right hand side of Maedhros, Curufin took a seat on the floor against the left wall. He watched Maedhros carefully. He noted that he had yet to look at his right arm. “What do you remember, Nelyo?”

 

The room went silent as the question hung in the air. Maedhros did not answer immediately, instead he let his gaze wander to his right arm which still lay beneath the bed cover. He closed his eyes tight. “I remember everything.”

 

Maglor took his left hand and squeezed it. “You still have one good hand. You will learn to fight all the more with this one, and you will wield it with deadlier accuracy than the right ever managed.”

 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Turning then to quiet conversation, the brothers caught Maglor up on all that had happened since his captivity. He loved his brothers deeply and though each felt guilty for not having been the one to rescue Maedhros, he did not hold it against them. Morgoth remained a foe beyond anything they had imagined could exist. Still, in his heart he yearned to see Fingon, to thank him for his rescue.

 

So it was late into the night, when all his brothers had left to rest, that Maedhros lay awake in bed. When a soft knock sounded on his wooden door, he pushed himself as far into a sitting position as he could muster and spoke permission for the newcomer to enter.

 

“Fingon!” Maedhros felt unbidden tears in his eyes. So much needed to be said, and there seemed so little time. There was the apology for the ships at Losgar, the apology for dragging him into the wilds in a daring rescue, the apology for the hard feelings between their peoples, and also the thanksgiving for his life. “Fingon…”

 

Fingon’s bright smile in the candlelight melted the fear from Maedhros’ heart. He should’ve known that Fingon, his greatest friend, would not bear a grudge. And so when Fingon placed the candle he bore onto the bedside table, it was to his great surprise that which he spoke.

 

“Why are you sitting around,” Fingon said with a playful grin. “Shouldn’t you be doing something more productive.” Maedhros was struck dumb, so Fingon answered for him as his smile fell away. “In all honesty, by all that is good in this world, it gives me great joy to see you sitting, old friend.”

 

“Fingon, I must apologize for-”

 

“Did you spare a thought for us that night?” He crossed his arms as he stood at the foot of Maedhros’ bad. “When the ships burned, did you think of your cousins?”

 

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

 

“Then there is nothing to apologize for. When your father sets his mind to something, it would be folly to try and sway him.” Fingon sat in the chair Maglor had sat in hours before. “So take heart, son of Feanor. You owe me nothing.”

 

But Maedhros shook his head. “I owe you everything.”


End file.
